


Assume the Position

by infiniteeight



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Porn, Spanking, cliched plot, foreplay masquerading as discipline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteeight/pseuds/infiniteeight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Tumblr prompt: "Clint has been bugging everyone all day, so Coulson bends him over his desk, spanks him and then has his way with the younger man."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assume the Position

Coulson starts hearing the grumbling the second he steps into headquarters. Personal items gone missing, unauthorized access of comm frequencies, darts shot into a variety of body parts. He gives his report to Fury and goes to wander the corridors. It only takes half an hour before a dart _thwacks_ into his shoulder. "Barton!" Coulson snaps, for all that he can't see the man. "My office, five minutes, or I'll have your favorite bow broken into scraps." He sets off for his office without looking back, plucking the dart out of his shoulder as he goes.

Clint is sitting on his desk when Coulson arrives, swinging his legs and smirking. "Welcome back, boss."

"If you wanted my attention," Coulson says sharply. "You have it."

"What, and I'm going to regret it?" Clint rolls his eyes. "No one saw me do anything, and you know the junior agents aren't gonna give you enough for an official write up."

He's right, unfortunately. The junior agents are far too much in awe of Hawkeye, even if he pisses them off. "Oh, this isn't going to be official," Coulson says. "I think you need a little more personal attention than a write up."

Clint laughs. "You going to take me over your knee, Coulson?"

Actually, that might be just what Clint needs. "No," he says eventually, "I think I'd prefer you over the desk."

"Yeah, right," Clint snorted. "Don't talk the talk if you aren't going to walk the walk."

"You will never go another op if you don't drop your pants and assume the position in the next ten seconds," Coulson says coolly.

Clint frowns at him for a long moment before sliding off the desk and smirking, his hands going to his fly. "I'm calling your bluff." His pants slither down his legs, pooling around his ankles, and he starts to turn. 

Coulson interrupts him. "Underwear, too."

Raising an eyebrow, Clint hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs and pauses. Coulson just watches impassively; this is hardly the first game of psychological chicken he's played. Clint slowly pushes his underwear down. He's got a nice cock, average length but thick, cut and dusky pink at the head. Coulson takes a long look before nodding and gesturing with one finger for Clint to turn around. For a long, tense moment he wonders if Clint will just walk out, SHIELD be damned. But instead he gets into position, bending over, bracing his hands on the surface of Coulson's desk. When he's settled he looks back over his shoulder at Coulson. "Well? Your move, Coulson."

Clint's ass is spectacular. Not that Coulson is about to compliment him, not now, but he does run an appreciative hand over the smooth, full curve of it before he brings his hand down in a sharp slap. Clint yelps, his whole body twitching. "Jesus!" he says. "You're seriously going to spank me?!?"

"You should know that I don't bluff," Coulson says, and delivers four more slaps in quick succession.

"Fuck," Clint gasps when Coulson pauses, but he doesn't move, even though it would only take a step or two to get out from under Coulson's hand.

Coulson runs his fingers over a dark pink hand print rising on Clint's skin. Beautiful. He layers another set of five over Clint's cheeks, watching the marks of his hand even out into an allover flush. Clint is whimpering now, lovely little choked noises, and Coulson has to pause to adjust himself. "Is ten enough?" he asks.

For a moment the only sound is Clint's harsh breathing. Then, in a very small voice, "No, sir."

Coulson's heart speeds up. "Ten more, then." He rubs a hand over Clint's ass, then presses between the cheeks and brushes the pads of his fingers over Clint's hole. "And after I'll take a little consideration for my trouble." 

Clint says nothing, not then, and not when Coulson leans across him and retrieves the hand lotion he keeps in his desk drawer. He doesn't make any more sounds at all until Coulson starts the spanking again, and then he cries out. He's probably too loud, but Coulson can't bring himself to care. The door is locked and no one is going to come to Clint's ‘rescue’ after the day he's given them, so Coulson keeps going, the sound of skin striking skin ringing out in harmony with Clint's wails. By the time he finishes the second set of ten, Clint's ass is bright pink and warm and he's panting for air, eyes clenched shut. Coulson reaches between Clint's legs and finds his cock, stiff and just as hot to the touch as his ass. Coulson gives it a quick stroke before quickly opening his own pants. 

Sighing with relief, he picks the bottle of lotion and squeezes some onto his fingers. It's cold even to him, so he's not surprised when Clint gasps and shudders when he pushes a slick finger inside him. "Relax," Coulson orders.

"Yes, sir," Clint says. After a moment the tight grip of his ass eases up. Coulson smiles and pumps his finger in and out of Clint's hole a couple of times before adding a second finger. Clint lets out a little cry, but it only a takes a few seconds before he's opened up for that one, too.

That's good enough; Phil wants that gorgeous ass wrapped around him. He slicks up his cock and spreads Clint's cheeks apart with his hands. Clint's hole flexes under his gaze. "Remember to breathe," Coulson says. Clint groans when Coulson pushes the head of his cock into his ass, but he does breathe, sucking in deep, shuddering gulps of air. Coulson rocks his hips, gaze fixed on the sight of Clint's hole stretched around him, slowly but steadily swallowing up his dick.

Clint is gloriously hot and tight, and the firm muscle of his ass cheeks only makes sinking into him better. From Clint's sharp grunt Coulson maybe rushes the last inch or two, but with an ass like this he hardly thinks he can be blamed. He sets a slow, indulgent pace after that, though, fucking Clint with the full length of his cock. Clint makes a dizzying variety of sounds, taking every stroke with a gasp or a moan or a whimper or a whine. 

Sweat dampens Clint’s shirt and beads at his hairline. It makes Coulson want to run his tongue over Clint's skin, lick up the salty drops and suck a mark into throat, but he's enjoying the slide of his cock plunging into Clint's ass too much stop. Instead he pushes one hand up under Clint's shirt, palming the tight muscles of his belly, and picks up the pace.

"Ohhh," Clint groans as Coulson's dick drives into him harder. He stutters a little through the next strokes before the word slips free. " _More._ "

Excitement flares in Coulson's belly. "That's good," he murmurs, sliding his hand down Clint's belly to take hold of his cock. It feels even better in his hand than it looked, swollen and damp with pre-come. "That's good, just let go." He starts stroking Clint's cock, moaning himself at the way it makes Clint clench down around his cock. 

"I _can't_ ," Clint sobs, hips arching into Coulson's thrusts. "I need--"

"Here-- Let me--" Coulson gives up on speaking and snaps his hips forward, hard. Clint cries out and Coulson does it again, fucks him so hard that their skin slaps together loudly. It only takes a few strokes to send Clint over the edge, shaking and moaning and barely managing to hold himself up.

But he does hold himself up, his ass thrust out for Coulson, who takes full advantage. He's close, tension a knot in his belly, but he draws it out, clinging to his control and savoring every plunge into Clint's tight, velvety heat. God, he wishes he could have this ass wrapped around his cock every second, his to enjoy whenever he pleases. The idea is too much for Coulson's control and his breath catches as he comes, pumping slickly into Clint's hole. He keeps their hips pressed together, his cock buried in Clint, until he starts to soften, and only then carefully withdraws. A dribble of his come escapes as he pulls out. He's tempted to wipe it up, but resists. Instead he tucks himself, sticks with come and lube, back into his pants. Clint is still just standing there, leaning against his desk, so Coulson crouches and pulls up his boxer briefs and pants, sliding them over his come filled ass and damp cock. He'll probably go clean up right after this, but just the idea of Clint walking around all fucked out and wet under his clothes sends a thrill through Coulson.

When he's got Clint properly zipped up, he tugs him out of his bent over position and turns him around. Clint looks dazed still. It seems like he still needs contact, so Coulson leaves his hands on Clint's shoulders. "Still feeling restless, Barton?" he asks.

Clint blinks and focuses. He ducks his head slightly. "No, sir." He licks his lips. "Permission to come see you next time I get...restless, sir?"

Coulson's pulse leaps. "Of course. But don't feel you have to wait that long, if you don't want to."

Clint smiles. "Oh, I get restless pretty often." Coulson can feel the corner of his mouth twitch up, and Clint chuckles and leans in and kisses him, quick and dirty. "I'm going to walk around like this all day, sir," he murmurs in Phil's ear before he steps back and smirks. "I think I'll be pretty restless tonight."

"Ten p.m., my place," Coulson says. It's all he can do to hold onto a bland expression until Clint walks out. Then he crumples into his chair and looks at the clock. 2:17pm. Clint wasn't going to be the only _restless_ one by ten.


End file.
